Below the Storm
by Nythembra
Summary: It's raining the night that Dean begins to fall apart.


Supernatural, Dean Winchester, Castiel © Eric Kripke

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It wasn't long after he'd started driving that he realized he needed to get out of the car. The highway they'd been on since leaving Indiana seemed as though it was never going to end, and the normally welcoming interior of the Impala felt as though it was closing in on him. He leaned back into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel tighter, making the leather creak. Next to him, Sam sat slumped into the door, his hair falling into his face as he snored loudly, clearly audible over the Boston tape playing over the speakers.

Sketchy. That's what Sam said it had been, it was sketchy.

Fuck yeah, it was sketchy. It was about as sketchy as things got, but that had been his whole life, hadn't it? Dean Winchester, one sketchy son of a bitch.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed down on the accelerator. The Impala purred at his touch and launched itself forward without protest, moving well over the speed limit.

"If only all girls were as loyal as you, baby," the hunter mumbled to it.

A droplet of water hit the windowsill, follow by another before it was covered in tiny drops that raced up glass, and the light thumping of rain was heard above the stereo.

Dean furrowed his brow slightly and reluctantly slowed down a bit, trying to focus on the road and ignore the pit in his stomach. He reached over to the stereo and turned the knob, boosting the volume up.

Sam jumped in his seat with a small intake of air and looked around with clouded, sleepy eyes, running the back of his hand over his mouth. Dean shot his little brother a sideways glance as he sat up straight and stretched a bit, arching his back with a groan.

"How ya doin,' over there, sleeping beauty?" He asked with a crooked grin.

Sam replied with a simple grunt before looking around out the windows, squeezing his eyes shut tightly a couple of times to clear them. "Where're we," he asked over the music.

"Bout' fifty miles from the state line," Dean replied, glancing in the rearview mirror. "I'm trying to find a place to stop for the night."

Sam squinted a bit in confusion. "How long have we been driving?"

"Two or three hours."

"You want to pull over already? I thought you'd want to get the hell out of Indiana as fast as possible."

"I do," the older brother replied, reaching over to turn the music back down.

"I'm just tired. Not feelin' too good."

"I can always drive," Sam offered with a shrug.

Dean just shook his head, staring ahead blankly for a moment before he leaned forward to glance up at the sky over the steering wheel. "Doesn't look like this rain it gonna get any better, I really just want to get out of it for a while. It's making me nervous."

"Nervous?" Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment, glaring at his brother in confusion until a thought crossed his mind, and he realized what Dean was doing. He opened his mouth to say something before promptly closing it again as he remembered his brother's words from only a few hours before hand.

_Don't ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again..._

The younger Winchester swallowed and thought quickly on the best way to handle the

situation he'd woken up to, feeling guilty for having even fallen asleep.

"Well," he said gently, "We passed a billboard a minute ago for a Super 8, next exit. Why don't you pull off there?"

Dean nodded, staring out the windshield blankly yet again, and Sam cleared his throat, looking out the window before he cleared it again.

"I'm getting hungry anyway. Pizza, maybe? I can order so you can take a nap." His heart sank a bit when Dean shrugged and said nothing, and reached over to turn the music back up as the song switched to one of his favorites. Instead of trying again, Sam leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone, pretending to check his texts and voicemail.

The rain was coming down even harder when Dean turned into the parking lot of the motel, and Sam seemed to leap out of the Impala like his life depended on it. The hunter let out a sigh and leaned his arms against the steering wheel, resting his head as he watched his little brother run into the main office to check in.

Christ, he felt like an ass. He already knew Sammy was trying to make things easier on him, that he could see right through his attempt at blowing things off as he usually did, but this wasn't something he'd just be able to shake away. This was big, and he felt it

tearing away at him, threatening to rip him apart from the inside.

A million memories of Ben and Lisa seemed to constantly surface in his mind, and he'd realized just how much he'd taken for granted. What was that saying? You don't know what you got till' it's gone. Of course, that was something Dean had always known. Something he experienced over and over again. Mom, Dad, Ellen and Joe, countless others. Each one, he'd taken for granted. Not once did he give them what they deserved. He hadn't even let them know just how much he cared about them. Five

minutes would have been enough.

Hell, he'd even taken Castiel for granted. God, had he. The angel had rebelled against Heaven for him, for fucks sake, and Dean had never even given him a simple 'thank you.' Maybe that's why the angel hadn't come to he and Sam for help instead of turning to Crowley. Had he really thought he'd cared about him that little?

Either way, sketchy as it was, Dean didn't have a doubt in his mind that having the angel wipe Lisa and Ben's minds of him was the wrong thing to do. They wouldn't have to put up with his selfishness. They were safer this way. With that thought, maybe he'd be able to sleep at night.

Sam came jogging out of the office building and crossed the parking lot to the Impala. Dean sat up and rolled down his window as his little brother approached. "We cool?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, room 114." He handed him a plastic card-key. "Mind if you put the

stuff in the room while I run out and grab us lunch?"

The older brother shook his head. "I'm not hungry, just grab yourself something." He reached back to grab his duffle bag and Sam's backpack before stepping out of the car.

His little brother looked at him incredulously. "You. Not hungry."

"Yeah."

"Dean Winchester."

"Yeah."

"My brother."

"Dude, please tell me this is going somewhere."

Sam shook his head and scrunched his eyes up for a moment In bewilderment. "Okay, I'll get you something for later then. God knows you'll want to eat at some point." He moved past him and climbed into the front seat, turning the ignition. The Impala roared to life then sat growling in blissful protest as Sam kept it in the parking lot for a moment later. "You're sure you're not hungry."

"Pretty damn sure, Sammy," came the impatient reply.

"Like absolutely, one-hundred percent, positively-"

"Dude, will you get the hell out of here? Just get me something for later."

Sam shrugged in resignation. "Fine. I'll just get you some pie." He shifted into reverse and threw his arm on the back of his seat as he turned around to pull out.

"Park by the room when you come back!" The older brother nearly shouted as Sam paused to shift again. The younger hunter turned to look out his window, giving Dean his best fuck-off look. "Bitch!"

The reply came as a distant shout as his little brother pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "Jerk!"

Dean managed a huff of a laugh as he made his way over to the long building with a row of green doors, counting them down to 114.

The room smelled of old cigarette smoke and lemon Pledge as he entered it, and the dark green carpet contrasted awkwardly with the pale walls. At least there was a mini-fridge. Tossing Sam's backpack onto the closest bed, he threw his own on the one nearest the bathroom before walking right over to its door to stand in the shower for a few hours.

When the hot water ran out, and his hands were pruny, he decided it was a good reason to dry off and at least attempt enduring the next few awkward hours with Sam until one of them fell asleep. He stepped out of the bathtub and used one of the hanging towels to dry himself and run it through his hair, spiking it profusely.

Sam was walking around the motel room when he finally came out of the bathroom, cell phone to his ear. Dean looked at him questioningly as he met his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's here right now, he just got out of the bathroom." His little brother held the phone away from him for a moment as he looked at Dean, mumbling quietly. "It's Bobby. Do you... What?" He put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, you can talk to him, here." He held out the phone.

Dean shook his head adamantly, talking in a low voice. "Not right now."

Sam narrowed his eyes, speaking just as quietly. "Dude, come on."

"No, Sam, not right now." He held up his hands defensively, his eyebrows knitting together in a light warning.

Sam held his arm out stiffly, pushing the cell phone towards his brother. "Come on, don't make me say something stupid, he's worried about you."

"Which is exactly why I don't want to talk to him, Sammy, not right now." Deans voice was getting a bit louder with every word, and Sam gave him his own warning look.

There was a small voice from the end of the receiver. "Sam?"

Sam gave Dean his best bitch-face and thrust the phone back to his ear. "Uh, sorry, Bobby. Dean just had to go to the bathroom... Yeah, he did just get out, but he had to go again."

The older hunter threw his hands in the air and collapsed face first onto his bed, stuffing his head under a pillow dramatically. Sam continued talking with an adament roll of hie eyes.

"No, no, he's fine. I mean, as fine as he can be I guess... Yeah, I'll tell him. I'll have him call you as soon as he feels a bit better... Alright, thanks. Later, Bobby."

The phone snapped shut. Dean felt his brother's eyes on him.

"Please don't yell at me, mommy."

Sam let out a huff. "Dude, what was that about? Bobby's genuinely concerned. You at least could have just said hi or something."

Dean rolled over and pulled the pillow with him so it covered his face. "I just don't feel

like talking to anyone, alright? I'll call him tomorrow. Just let it go."

"Fine. Is there any hot water left, or did you suck it into feeling like glacier runoff again?"

"Uh..."

"Yeah, I thought so." There was a thump, and Dean moved the pillow aside to see Sam laying on his bed, reaching over to the bedside table to grab the TV remote.

"Don't turn on anything mushy," Dean said, attempting a playful tone. It just came out as

awkward.

"I'm turning on the weather channel," Sam replied gruffly. "I don't know if you looked, but the rain is really coming down out there."

The older hunter flipped back onto his stomach, reaching for the curtains hanging near his bed. Certainly enough, the rain had turned from its constant drizzle to a heavy downpour, and the sky had darkened since he'd come inside.

"Looks like it's going to be doing this through tomorrow morning," his brother said with a yawn.

Dean flipped over again and pulled the pillow back over his face. "Not like we have anywhere to be for the moment." He sat up for a moment, his interest sparking. "Hey,

did you get pie?"

Sam flipped through the channels as he lay with his legs crossed, one arm behind his head. "Of course, I got pie."

Dean glanced around. "So where is it?"

His brother stopped channel surfing and turned to look at him with irate, hooded eyes for a moment. Dean simply looked at him expectantly, and Sam pointed to the mini-fridge with the remote and a flick of his wrist.

Dean grinned and half bounced, half scooted to the end of the bed towards the mini fridge sitting on the floor next to the dresser, not hesitating to fling open it's door and pull out a small, triangle shaped box. "Oh, dude, apple-cinnamon, you are the best."

"I know," came the bored reply, accompanied with another yawn.

He gave his little brother a genuine smile before Dean excitedly flopped back onto his pillows, tearing open the packaging of one of the plastic forks on top of the fridge.

Digging through the whipped cream and toasted crust, into the baked, cinnamon spiced, apple bliss, the hunter felt a bit of warmth return to him, and he found himself grinning contentedly to himself.

A bit later, he noticed the channels had stopped changing, and glanced over to Sam, who he found laying back on his bed, head turned away from him as a light snoring came from him. The hunter shook his head and tossed the now empty pie box into the trashcan near the door, before reaching across the gap between the beds to snatch the TV remote from where Sam had dropped it limply.

He found little to entertain him on the few channels he even bothered checking before he ended up resorting to channel surfing, though when he couldn't find anything on the sixty-seven channels that basic cable offered, he ended up stopping on a black and white film that he'd already passed a few times.

The film turned out to be a romantic comedy that wasn't too bad, really. It was a bit dry, and some of the jokes Dean didn't completely understand, being they were before his time, but the plotline was interesting enough to keep him mildly compelled. Sam probably would have enjoyed thoroughly, had he still been awake, but the hunter was slightly relieved that he had dropped into sleep. It was an easy way to avoid any more awkward conversation, especially when he knew Sam wanted to help him with the recent events.

Yet, as he lay there alone, with little interaction, his mind began to wander. While the movie was somewhat entertaining, the few romantic moments laced throughout were enough to push him onto subjects that he could have gone without thinking about. Thoughts of Lisa and Ben were swarming his mind again.

"The first day's always hard, man. You'll be fine," he told himself over and over.

He changed the channel, but it didn't help any, and when the memories came closer and closer together, and the walls began to feel as though they were closing in, he leaped off of the bed and snatched his jacket from the chair where'd he'd flung it. Moving to the door, he unlatched it loudly and flung it open, hesitating to look out in to the rain.

There was a stir from Sam's bed. "Dean?"

The oldest Winchester turned to meet his brother's confused gaze.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm going for a walk. I need some fresh air."

Sam sat up on his elbows. "A walk? But, Dean, it's still pouring outside."

"I know, Sammy. I'll be back, okay?"

Sam's shoulders fell, and he looked around the room as though searching for a reason to get Dean to stay. "Alright," he sighed after a minute. "Just be careful."

"You know me." He stepped out into the rain, closing the door behind him, only to hear his brother's loud reply.

"That's what I mean!"

Letting the warm downpour soak him through, the hunter made his way down the main street of the small town, his hands stuffed lazily into the deep pockets of his leather jacket.

The place was tiny, and Dean suspected the town only held about four or five thousand people. The busiest area was around Main Street, while the rest seemed to be small businesses and neighborhoods. Not many cars were around and he suspected it was because of the weather.

After a time, he came to a playground in a large field of grass and trees that he assumed was the city park. Moving to the closest swing set, he seated himself on the swing nearest to him, moving it back and forth gradually.

The thoughts of Lisa and Ben came to him just as easily as they had before, though he found himself feeling less tense than he had been in the motel room, and in a quiet resignation, he let his thoughts drift. His throat clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut

as a vision of another rain storm came to him.

It hadn't been a week since the end of it all. Since the day that four of the most unlikley indiviudals had put a stop to a horror in which most of the world was blissfully ignorant to. He'd lost Sammy that day, and the world that he'd saved had come crashing down around him like an avalanch, smothering him until he couldn't breathe.

She had been there. Kind, understanding, and open hearted, she'd pulled him out of the debri of his old life and helped him build himself back up.

The night he'd come to her it had started raining. Dean had always planned on keeping his promise to her, but he'd never thought it'd be under such painful circumstances. She pulled him inside and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him sob against her. After she'd put Ben to bed, she had sat him down and curled into his lap, knowing that he'd felt defenseless and useless against harm. She'd let him hold her as rain pelted the windows, thunder rang through the house, and lightning knocked the power out, leaving them in quite darkness together.

_"You don't have to talk about it now, but when you do, I'll be here to listen."_

The rain continued to come down at its steady pace as Dean slipped out of the swing and onto the ground. He leaned back against one of the poles of the swing set and tilted his face towards the sky, letting the rain drops run over his face. His breath came shakily as his shoulders shook. A soft sob emitted from his throat and he screwed his eyes shut again.

"Lisa..."

His shoulders shook harder as everything came forward, yet the scratching from inside his chest seemed to disappear a bit more with each shaky breath, and finally, he pulled the wall down.

"Please," he choked out. "Please, let me know it was the right thing. Help me with this."

Then, so very suddenly, the rain was gone. The drops falling on his face disappeared, and the sound of it falling around him became distant. An unexpected feeling of security washed over him.

Dean sat up, tilting his head forward. Staring ahead, he narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the water still pouring before him. While it had seemed to have stopped falling on him, it still fell from the clouds as steadily as ever around the playground. He blinked in confusion, raising his head again to look above his head. Rain still fell, yet it seemed to stop inches from his face, only to hit an invisible wall and slide off to the side and to the ground as it would if hitting an umbrella.

A realization suddenly came over him. Slowly, he turned his head to look behind him.

He stood a few feet away, staring at the ground with melancholy, hooded eyes, the rain soaking his trench coat as water ran steadily off of his chin and the ends of his dark hair. He was slumped against the leaning pole of the swing set, quiet hands hanging limply at his sides.

Dean blinked through the water dripping from his hair and wiped his face with a hand to clear his eyes. "Cas?"

The angel said nothing, nor did he move, but his eyes squeezed shut in what seemed like pain at the sound of the hunter's voice.

Dean watched him curiously, raising an arm to try wiping the water from his eyes. "Cas," he soud in a louder voice and the man before him jumped slightly before turning his head the slightest bit, gazing at him painfully through hooded eyes. The hunter could barely make out his voice as he spoke under the thunder, his tone morose as the sky.

"Hello, Dean."

"What the hell are you doin,' man?" Dean shook his head in inquiry, and Castiel lowered his head to study the black mulch under his feet, his eyes shifting in what seemed like confusion at the question.

"You were praying," he answered quietly, blinking through the rain.

A bolt of lightning forked through the sky, lighting the area, and Dean looked to the ground as he noticed a dark shadow over him, leading to the silouette of Castiel on the ground. He glanced above him, seeing the rain drops pelt the invisible force above his head, understanding suddenly the that angel was holding his wings over him, protecting him from the rain.

Dean shifted, rolling his jacket higher onto his shoulders uncomfortably. He swallowed at Cas' comment and looked around the playground before glaring back at the angel. "So?"

Cas looked away, staring down at the mulch. He mumbled something that Dean couldn't hear and the hunter leaned forward a bit.

"What?"

"I said I'm always here when you pray."

Dean's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed again. His eyebrows went up mild surprise and he shifted on the ground a bit before impatiently getting to his feet and dusting mulch off of his soaked pants. He looked up to see the invisble force of Cas' wing had moved with him, but was still blocking the rain from him.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," he managed out gently. "I'm fine getting wet."

Castiel raised his head to look up at the sky, blinking minimally through the rain that fell onto his face. "It will get harder sooner," he spoke, "You should get back to Sam."

Dean hesitated before slowly getting to his feet, glancing around the playground before pulling his eyes back to the angel leaning against the swingset.

Cas looked almost pitiful just slumping there like that. Head down, not even seeming to care about the water that was soaking him and running over his face. The hunter felt somthing tug in his chest, even through the anger still swimming in his veins at the sight of the angel.

"Cas," he spoke over the rain and rolling thunder. The angel lifted his head a bit at the sound of his name but didn't turn, his eyes still staring down at the ground in front of him. "I've been thinking about what you said. About why you said you're doing all this."

The angel's jaw clenched and his eyes slipped shut as though he expected harsh words, and Dean shifted and stuffed his hands into his leather jacket. "I just wanted to let you know I understand," he stated, "but it doesn't mean I can forgive you."

Cas' eyes opened again and he turned, looking the hunter in the face for the first time since he appeared. His own gaze was dark and yearning, and somehow still so unreadable. It amazed Dean that even in such a pitiful state, the angel could still look so untouchable.

"I never wanted you to forgive me, Dean," he said quietly, his gravelly voice gentle and laced with pain. "I never could after what I've done."

They stood quietly for moments, staring at each other. One in a haze of morose empathy, the other in quiet dismay. When the angel spoke, the hunter could only listen and try to hear the reasoning in his gruff voice.

"It is better this way. For her."

Dean pulled his eyes up to the angel's as new tears spilled over. "Yeah?"

The answer was quiet, but delivered with complete honestly. "Yeah."

It was when Castiel stepped forward with his hand risen that Dean blinked in surprise and jumped slightly. There was a light, warm pressure on his forhead from the angel's fingers, and a violent rush of air. Before he opened his eyes again, he heard a light flapping, and then the simple thrum of rain hitting steel above him.

Dean glanced around, finding himself alone and in front of his hotel room door. With a slump of his shoulders he let out a discouraged sigh and shook his head before looking out at the pouring rain, murmuring quietly.

"Later, Cas."

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Thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it. :)


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